A Question of Loyalty
by Thirteen Fifteen
Summary: Young Molly Hooper, daughter of Lord Hooper, is to wed the youngest son of Lord Holmes, Sherlock. Having met the young butler James Moriarty and maid Irene Adler and to top it all off with her annoying older sister in the way, there is one question that needs to be answered. A question of loyalty. 18th century AU
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This is our first Sherlock fic and first AU fic. Constructive criticism is welcomed. And please feel free to correct us on any mistakes especially on the 18th century history facts. **

The carriage rolled along the uneven road, bumping every so often. Young Margaret Hooper (who preferred to go by Molly), sat inside, her face solemn as she looked out the window, watching the snow fall steadily. Next to her sat her older sister, Daphne and opposite them sat their parents, Lord and Lady Hooper. They were wealthy people, but not as wealthy as their soon-to-be in-laws, the Holmes. The Holmes family were the wealthiest in all of England. The Holmes' youngest son, Sherlock, was Molly's soon-to-be husband. Today was the day when Molly and Sherlock would finally meet. "Now Margaret, I assume you know the Holmes family right? Good, good. Young master Sherlock, ah, may not be the most sentimental person. He's a queer fellow, he is. But his parents did ask for your hand for him personally so that has to mean something, doesn't it now?" Lord Hooper ranted on. Molly had barely turned eighteen when her father told her of this news. The Holmes had paid her father a large sum of money for Molly. Sherlock Holmes had never been seen in the public, or been in the newspapers. Molly feared that he may be too old for her, like around his brother, Mycroft's age. She could only pray for the best. "Ah look! We have arrived," said Lady Hooper. Her mother was always the vain one, today she was particularly flamboyant with her dressing. Wearing a tight corset with a pink dress that had short sleeves, and an extremely unflattering headdress. Her sister wore a similar dress, but just in turquoise. They both wore a tad bit too much makeup and each had gold necklaces with matching earrings. Her father wore his best suit, made of Italian silk with copper buttons and gold cuff links, and polished leather shoes. He held a gold top cane in his right hand. Molly however, looked as plain as bread next to her family. Wearing only a purple shoulder length gown with a tight corset, minimal makeup and plain black stiletto high heels that always clicked annoyingly every time she walked. Lady Hooper took her husband's arm as they exited the carriage. "Put on your coats, dears. It's dreadfully cold outside," Lady Hooper told Molly and Daphne. Two doormen opened the large polished wood doors to the Holmes manor. "Welcome, Lord Hooper," an ageing man greeted. With a head full of silvery hair, he was the head butler of the Holmes mansion, Albert Clayworth III. "May... may I take your coat and hat, m'lady?" a tall young man asked Molly. Molly whipped around, though it was hard especially in that dress of hers. "Ah, Miss Hooper. I see that young Mister James Moriarty has been captured by your beauty," Alfred said. Molly flushed as this James Moriarty took her coat and hat and kissed her hand. "Why don't I lead you to the sitting room? Your family has already went. You may be able to wait for Sir Holmes there," said Albert. Molly allowed herself to be lead nearer to her future, leaving the charming young man behind.


	2. Chapter 2

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Sherlock walked along one of the many corridors in his family's mansion. Smoothing his jacket, he attempted to find the entrance to the sitting room once more.

"Well, aren't you ravishing today?"

Smirking, Sherlock turned around. Of course, it was none other than Irene Adler. Irene was one of the maids at the Holmes mansion, cleaning half of the rooms and all of the riches she could find. When she first met the young master Sherlock, you could say that there was a certain something between them. Irene longed for Sherlock to be hers, trying several ways to coax him from that cold hard shell of his, and she succeed in the end, or so she thought. She was a charming and beautiful woman, with long black hair and deep eyes, any man would have fallen for her. Sherlock never loved her. She was just for his own use for pleasure. He had no time or thought to spare for emotions. She kissed him on his neck, her way of greeting him.

"Miss Adler," he said. "Well," Irene said, her eyes staring into his blue-green ones as she played with his buttons,"I would just like to say—"

"Sherlock! There you are!"

"We'll continue this later, " he whispered into her ear. She nodded, giving him one of her mischievous smiles, and left. Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother, walked towards them hurriedly. He was the complete opposite of everything Sherlock was and it annoyed him to no end. Mycroft longed for a normal brother whom with he could discuss politics and women and fine wines and cigars. But instead, he got a cold hearted maniac for a brother, who had a love for the most gruesome things and had only one friend, that friend being Lord John Watson. Sherlock was intelligent, no doubt about that, but probably a bit too intelligent. He would always deduce people. "I am just stating the obvious, Mycroft. There is nothing wrong with pointing out people's flaws." Sherlock always said that whenever Mycroft begged him to stop. It irritated everyone around him. Logicality was everything to Sherlock. To Sherlock, there should always have a reason to everything. Emotions and feelings were in the grey area, so he locked himself away from it. "Come on, don't keep your wife waiting!"

This wasn't the first time Sherlock was irritated to see Mycroft. He followed him to the sitting room and realised he had been walking the wrong way after all. _Wife_. The word stung him. He was so well known for being an immoral and unemotional man and now he was taking up a wife, which would mean devotion and loyalty and, urgh, love. They were annoying factors of matrimony.

"What were you doing with that maid anyway, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, looking at his younger brother.

"Is that any of _your_ concern, dear brother?" Sherlock said.

Mycroft looked displeased but said nothing. They could already hear the people in the sitting room, their father's pathetic attempt at humour and their mother chortling at his feeble jokes.

"Well, look who finally arrived," their father said as they stepped into the room. Sherlock smiled awkwardly at the people. He glanced around the room with his blue-green eyes, until they rested on Lord Desmond Hooper.

_Fine suit, gold cane. That suit is rarely worn, he probably saves that for special occasions, like this. There is a singe on his shirt, ironed by a new maid possibly. Wedding ring on his ring finger. Polished regularly, clearly in a happy marriage. Grey hair, in his late 50s. High heeled leather shoes, ah a bit too high, aren't they? Paddings inside, very insecure of his height_, Sherlock thought. He couldn't help it. He turned to look at Lady Alexandria Hooper.

_Hair is bit messy on the right side. Headdress on the left. Left handed, hair was done in a rush. Makeup done to perfection. Trace of a different shade of eye makeup. Must have redid the entire thing which took a bit of time, the reason for her messy hair. Wearing rather exquisite jewellery, obviously to show off_,Sherlock thought. He grew tired of deducing Lady Hooper as he had met a lot of women like her and knew what she was like and her intentions. Sighing, he moved onto Daphne Hooper. And just as he laid eyes on her, Daphne spilled her tea and a maid rushed towards her, holding a cloth. "Don't touch me!" she snapped at the maid, flustered. _Early 20s. Hair done perfectly, decorated. Face makeup done neatly, not by her, her hands are too clumsy judging by the way she spilled tea onto her dress. By her sister most probably, seeing as she doesn't like maids touching her. Her neckline is rather low, showing off her amble chest. Her jewellery is much fancier than her mother's, and her corset is done too tightly, trying to impress someone. Can't be Father, and who in the right mind would want to court Mycroft?_ Sherlock had had enough of the first sister and moved on to the second one. But Molly was much more observant than her ignorant family. She immediately sensed that someone was watching her, and turned we head to look. Green-blue pierced into innocent brown. They held their gaze for what seemed like a dramatically long time until they were interrupted.

"Sherlock? Sherlock!" his father, Lord Maximus Holmes said with a scowl. Sherlock then turned his attention back to his future in-laws, "Why don't you be a lad and take the lovely Margaret on a tour if the mansion?"

Everyone got to their feet and stared at the young man. Molly stood directly in front of him, her doe eyes stared intently at him.

"Gladly."


	3. Chapter 3

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It had been two full months since Molly last saw him. The loathsome man, you couldn't even call him a human being! Their engagement had been announced publicly, with Katherine Riley, a devious up-and-coming reporter, writing an article about them in the newspapers.

She received many letters from the Holmes, be it a forced one from Sherlock that his mother made him write or an invitation to the engagement party. But majority of those letters came from Jim.  
Jim, his name alone made her heart flutter. She knew in her heart that she would always belong to Jim and never to Sherlock.

Three weeks earlier...

"Jim? Jim!" Molly whispered to the overgrowth in the Hooper manor garden. It was nearing midnight. Lifting the hem of her white nightgown, she jumped over the head of a broken statue.

"Molly! Molly, I'm here!"

A smile appeared on Molly's pale face as she rushed over to where Jim was. Giggling, they wrapped each other in a warm embrace. They had been meeting in secret for two months and had established a more-than-friends relationship. Jim stroked her cheek as Molly ran her fingers through her hair, both looking at each other with such love and adoration that you might just throw up. They sat down on a stone bench next to the old oak tree.

"Would you marry me?" Jim asked suddenly.  
Molly's face reddened. She wanted to say yes so badly, but she knew she couldn't. She let out a resigned sigh.

"Jim, I can't. You know I can't."

Flustered, it was Jim's turn to turn red. "I— I, yeah, yeah. I know. But, um, what I mean is that, if— if you weren't engaged to Master Holmes, would— would you choose, me?"

"Yes."

They kissed passionately until—

"What's going on out there? Molly?"

Daphne Hooper stood outside in her pink nightgown. Apparently, she was woken from the commotion they were making outside. Molly gaped at Jim, not sure of what to do. Pecking him on the lips, they promised to meet at the same place at the same time, and he left.

She was back in the carriage, bumping along the familiar road, driving back to hell, but driving back to Jim.


End file.
